Monday, July 5, 2010

“Clash” by Drew Wilcox

Don't run, and don't shoot. I've been waiting for someone to talk to. You look confused. Do you realize what's going on?

I saw you crawl out of that tunnel. Let me give you some advice. It may save your life.

If you're observant, you'll know it's coming about two minutes before it happens. There are telltale signs. They'll start walking in step with each other. Their breathing patterns synchronize. If you're staring at a group of them in a room, they won't realize that they're all doing it, but they'll stare at the same things and their body language will be exactly identical to each other. Before they even realize it, they've lost themselves, and if you weren't paying attention two minutes before that, then there are two possible outcomes.

Option one is that you lose yourself along with them, and then you're a member. You won't find yourself syncing up with them unless they're like you. I don’t know what triggers it, but you'll fall right in with them, like a chain gang of like-minded personalities. If that happens, the only way you can separate yourself from them is with a bullet to the brain.

Oh, yeah. That's option two, by the way.

Most call it "locking in." If you're around another human being nowadays and you're not locking with them, you are their enemy, and they will kill you. Don't blame it on them. They lost the ability to think for themselves when they became a member of the mob think. Your individuality is offensive to them. They'll torture you, if you don’t fight them off.

They've lost themselves, and they're never coming back. It's like trying to put the engine of a Camaro in a Mustang and firing up the ignition. It just doesn't work.

Odds are, a few of them have already come at you. I can imagine you've done some pretty horrible shit in the past couple of months or so, but then again, so have the rest of us. When you scavenge for food or manage to find water, at least there's your mouth. They never break out in to fighting amongst themselves, but when groups fight groups, it's never a good thing. You get too many dead bodies on the ground, and then more mobs show up, waiting for the showdown to end so they can carve up the leftovers and feed their group for a few days.

You know we’re at an impasse here, but put down the gun. Please.

Maybe you haven't seen enough of them to notice any patterns yet. We both know this isn't the way we wanted the world to end. I always thought it'd be the nukes myself, but as it turns out, it's both simpler and more complicated than that. The world turned upside down. People stopped thinking for themselves, and now they’re like packs of hyenas. The ones who haven't fallen in, who haven't "locked" with the others ---- we're sheep, really. It's only a matter of time. Keep that bullet close to your heart. You'll never know when you'll need to bring it home for your own sake.

Whether or not you know the cause of all this is just plain worthless at this point. What does matter is that it happened, and now here we are. There's you, trying to live life, playing the game of survival, attempting to live the way you did before that high-pitched scream streaked through the sky and they all lost their minds. Be thankful you weren't driving when it happened. Imagine millions cruising on the freeway at seventy five ---- they're headed in from a hard day, chasing the American dream. Then, you've got an empty brain that's been wiped clean of everything in a split second, surrounded by a thousand more empty brains. You've got those two, and then you've got inertia. At the end of the day, when the only thing alive on that stretch of highway is a stray cat, you've got a bloody mess.

Something tells me that whoever unleashed this on the world is just curious. They wanted to see how we would behave when reduced to our original human instincts. In a way, I guess they could argue that we're stronger for it. People don't rely on technology anymore. They rely on their pack, their group, their brood. Those without a pack are weeded out and eaten. A half-eaten candy bar that you found in a trash can, or human flesh. It's all the same. Survive.

No group can exist alongside another indefinitely. It's impossible. There's no way to stop the strongest of the cliques from tearing the others apart, and it's only a matter of time before survival of the fittest becomes the norm, rather than the exception. I don't particularly care to be alive anymore, and I don't think you do either. I see it in your eyes. You've given up, and I have to say that I don't blame you.

I see what the person who caused all this wanted. They wanted to see us clash. Nothing more, nothing less.

I'm scared, mostly because you're the first person I've seen since it all happened that hasn't been with anyone else. I see that you have your weapon ready. I don't think you have to worry about it, really. Look at your hands and feet. You can't stop staring at the setting sun, and neither can I. You've killed entire cliques to keep yourself going, and for what? To find one yourself.

We're locking in, you see? You and I are meant to travel the rest of the world together, and it makes me happy, because all I've wanted is to see who wins. We're outnumbered, but you never know. Maybe the world will be our playground.

You and me.

As of two minutes ago, I'm trying to stop breathing, but my chest is rising and falling in perfect unison with yours.